


Nothing Lasts Forever; Or, an Endgame Fix to Give Natasha the Respect She Deserves

by edith (AccioTardis)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Brooklyn, Endgame, M/M, Pizza, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), come and get em, melodramatic af to compensate for the writers lack of it, natasha romanoff funeral, natasha's funeral, we've got all your endgame fixes right here, we've got buckynat, we've got giving natasha the proper respect and funeral she deserved, we've got steggy, we've got stucky, what more could you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioTardis/pseuds/edith
Summary: writing the endgame scenes the writers should have written. aka, natasha romanoff gets her funeral. steve & bucky actually get time together. (what? crazy!) & maybe, just maybe, her family gets to properly mourn her sacrifice. oh, and buckynat gets a slight callback.





	1. The Dignity of Choice; Or, Steve & Bucky actually talk.

“Steve?”

He relaxes slightly at the recognition of Bucky’s voice calling his name, but Steve doesn’t look up. Instead, he runs a finger over the jacket strewn next to him on the bed, the green fabric wrinkled and bunched up in places as if it had been thrown onto the comforter in a haste, the owner having given a silent, now forever unfulfilled promise to hang it up later. He pulls it onto his lap, rubbing his thumb over one of its brass buckles.

Out of habit, he instinctively reaches to pluck a loose hair off the sleeve. He watches the red strand fall to the floor, his vision blurred slightly from the tears that have been continually welling since Tony snapped Thanos’ army out of existence.

Bucky leans against the doorway, his metal arm leaving a mark against the wooden frame. “You need to eat something.”

Steve huffs in response.

“Was most of her stuff at the compound, or did she not like decorating?” Bucky asks, surveying the room, hoping the quip lands in a positive way.

It does. At least, it gets Steve to look up, which is more than he’s done in a few hours.

His eyes trail across the sparse, white room Natasha occupied during the occasional nights she spent at his Brooklyn apartment. Aside from a lamp and two small, framed photos on the nightstand - one of the Bartons in holiday sweaters, and one of Nicholas J. Fury holding an eyepatch-wearing cat with a matching leather jacket that SHIELD would have definitely considered compromising had anyone but Natasha taken it - the room holds no information about the person who called it home.

Steve’s eyes hover across the pile of case files resting on the dresser and up to the mirror, eyeing his reflection. His eyes haven’t been this puffy since… well, since Peggy’s funeral. He licks his chapped lips, but it does nothing to help. His cheeks are splotched with red.

“You’ve looked worse,” Bucky contributes, making his way to the bed. Steve moves the jacket off to the side, clearing a spot for Bucky to sit next to him.

He does, putting his hand on Steve’s knee. Steve gives a small smile in response, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“It shouldn’t have been her,” he lets out after a moment of silence, his voice hoarse, the first time he’s used it today. “She was always there for us. For me.”

His voice cracks, and he pauses. Bucky squeezes his knee but stays silent, not about to interrupt the first thought Steve has vocalized in almost 36 hours.

His words come slow, pained, straining against the dryness of his throat. “When I came out of the ice, everyone was just happy I was alive. But I didn’t feel alive, I didn’t feel anything. How could I? Got a second chance at life, and all I wanted was to go back to the first, go back to you, back to Peggy, back to Brooklyn…”

Steve shakes his head. “Fury put me up in an apartment, gave me some money. Tried to get me back into the world, but it wasn’t the same world I knew, Buck. You know that.”

He waits until Bucky gives a slight nod before continuing. “I was alive, but I wasn’t living. Not until Natasha.”

He takes a deep breath. His shakiness verbalizes itself in the air, and Bucky gives his knee a slight squeeze again.

“She’s the one who realized I was just going through the motions of what they all expected of me. The perfect soldier.” Steve gives a soft attempt at a laugh, an emotionless action just to give himself time to stop another tear from falling. “She noticed immediately. Always tried to keep me connected to the realities of this century. Invited me to missions we both knew she could do alone. But I think maybe she recognized herself in me.”

Steve lightly shakes his head again. “Natasha was my family when I had none. And I was hers.”

His voice cracks, and Steve falls silent once more, taking comfort in the warmth of Bucky’s arm pressed against his. It’s been a few decades since they’d been this close, a long time since they’d curled up on couch cushions together as kids. Back when their future was only unwritten possibility, and neither could have guessed how the war and their worlds would unfold.

“I knew her,” Bucky says after a quiet moment.

Steve looks up, and a tear falls down his cheek. “Yeah, Buck, she helped us at the airport a few years back.”

“No, I mean,” Bucky starts, turning his head to meet Steve’s gaze, “before all that. I knew her.”

Steve hesitates, not wanting to bring up a past Bucky would prefer to forget. “Before Hydra sent you to kill us?”

 “I trained her. In Belarus. I didn’t know why or how I recognized her until Shuri rewired my mind when erasing their programming. She sorted through my fragments and pulled out memories. We stitched together my past. And Natasha was there.” He pauses for a moment, weighing her name in his mouth. “Natalia. Did she ever tell you about the Red Room?”

“Only that they trained young girls to become lethal weapons.” Steve’s brow furrows. “And that she’d never be able to make up for the innocent lives she took.”

“She was so young, Steve.” Bucky tenses. “They all were. And I trained them to kill. Their enemies, each other… it didn’t matter. Death was their first nature."

Steve reaches for Bucky’s hand on his knee, threading their fingers together. “You had no choice, Buck. That wasn’t you.”

Bucky just shakes his head. “It wasn’t Nat either.” He clenches his teeth. “They got in your head. You couldn’t shake it. Those girls, that room… Hydra couldn’t have imagined worse, Steve. They had no identity, handcuffed to their beds each night, taught to kill barehanded, usually in the snow, forced to sit through subliminal messages playing in kids’ movies. You remember when Snow White came out and we went down to the cinema together to see it? They played it on a loop for the girls, over and over, brainwashing them in between, teaching them to be everything society expected them to be, and how to use that expectation as one of their strengths. If one of them got sick, or couldn’t keep up…”

Steve feels the muscles in Bucky’s arm tense against his own before he continues, “I trained the other girls to kill them. Survival of the fittest. The KGB wanted only the best. And Natalia Romanova was the best student they ever had.”

“Did she…?” Steve pauses, not sure he wants to picture the past deeds Natasha tried so hard to keep quiet.

“She did what she needed to survive.” He waits a second, watching Steve’s expression. “We both did. But even though she hid it well, she never lost her humanity. There was a time she almost brought mine back out, too. We thought we were invincible, that we could escape and live new lives, outrun the roles they wanted us to play.”

“What happened?”

“They caught us,” Bucky answers, his voice steady but exhausted. “And they must’ve wiped my mind again. The next memory Shuri could pull out was a mission in Giza. Alone.”

“She told me she never felt more alone than she did in her youth,” Steve says, quietly. “I never knew she had you.”

“Nat was their strongest asset.” Bucky watches Steve’s face, waiting for a change, a frown, a tear, anything. “Anyone else they would have killed for trying to go awol. But they didn’t want to lose her. I think they took her down to conditioning, rewrote her memories. She may not have even known.”

He looks down, watching as Steve slowly traces a finger against the back of his hand. “When you get out, _if_ you get out, it’s hard to know what’s yours. You can’t tell if it’s a real memory or one of their fake ones. It’s easier to just bury it all.”

“But she couldn’t,” Steve says, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

“No,” Bucky agrees. “Nat was always so much more than they expected. The fact she broke free more than once shows her strength. But the past weighs on you. Even if you know it isn’t who you are anymore, you can’t shake the fact it influenced who you became. You know it’s in your DNA.”

Steve reaches out to touch Bucky’s cheek with his hand, turning his chin toward him until their eyes meet.

“We’ve both done things we never wanted anyone to know about.” He turns his gaze downwards, overwhelmed by the compassion in Steve’s expression. “She couldn’t have lived with herself if she didn’t do whatever it took to make up for them. At least she found her peace.”

“Buck,” Steve starts, slowly, grasping his hand tighter as if his fingers alone could prevent losing him again. “You’re here for a reason. You and Natasha are… were… good people. Both of you are two of the strongest, kindest, most empathetic and giving people I know. And neither of you deserved the pain you suffered.”

Bucky stays silent, still unable to meet his gaze, so Steve continues. “The universe put the two of you together all those years ago for a reason, too. And I’m glad you were able to find comfort in each other.

“Buck, look at me,” Steve says, wiping away the tear welling in Bucky’s eye with his thumb. “You’re a good man, Buck. And Natasha was a good woman. And the world is better off because she was in it, and because you are.”

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice is hoarse. “I’ve done terrible things. And so did she. But Natasha has spent every moment since making up for hers. I’m not the one who should be here.”

“I thought you died once,” Steve starts, waiting until Bucky’s eyes find his again. “You were gone, and I was lost, torn apart. Would’ve given anything to trade places with you. Peggy came to comfort me, tried to help me find a reason to live again. And you know what she said?”

Steve waits for a response, but Bucky simply stares at him. “She told me to allow you the dignity of your choice, Buck, because you damn well must have thought I was worth it.”

“You were,” Bucky interrupts. “And are. I’ve regretted so many things in my life, but I’ve never regretted protecting you. But you don’t need protection anymore.”

Steve smiles softly, his eyes searching Bucky’s. “I still need you.”

Bucky freezes for a moment, but Steve leans in, closing his eyes. His lips meet Bucky’s gently, his hand still on his face, reaching confidently for the back of his neck. Bucky takes a second, but then he melts into the kiss, his lips pushing back with more force. Steve doesn’t flinch when his metal arm wraps around his back, pulling him closer.

The two become one for a moment, a moment that neither wants to end. But as Steve starts to deposit more weight onto Bucky, his other hand falling to his waist, all but ready to carefully drop both of them backward onto Natasha’s bed, they both stop.

They press their foreheads together, their eyes still closed. Slowly, Steve pulls away, his hand dropping from Bucky’s cheek. Bucky catches it on the way down, holding on to it as tightly as Steve had earlier. The two are silent, listening to the sound of their pounding hearts and faltered breaths morphing together.

Steve nestles his head in the crook of Bucky’s neck, and Bucky reaches his arm around his back and under the bottom of his shirt, drawing small circles on Steve’s skin, smiling to himself at the goosebumps forming.

“I wish more than anything it wasn’t her,” Steve whispers. “Not you, either, Buck. I should’ve taken the space mission. She should’ve gone back to New York, and I should’ve been in space.”

“Steve,” Bucky starts, turning his head to kiss the top of Steve’s forehead.

“I wish I could hear her joke one more time, hear her laugh, see her face light up with a stupid grin. I wish we could stop losing soldiers who shouldn’t be soldiers but who take on the mantle anyway just because someone needs to. I wish we could stop losing friends and family and sisters and brothers.

“But I know she didn’t sacrifice her life for nothing.” Steve takes a labored breath, lifting his head from Bucky’s shoulder. “We’re here because of her. She sacrificed her life for the entire universe, for us, for all the families who will never know she’s the reason they’re reunited. All we can do is honor her choice and live the lives she’s given us, the best way we can. Because she damn well must have thought we were worth it, too.”

Bucky gives a soft laugh, and pulls Steve closer into him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “I just don’t remember you being that good at cheering me up.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve says, meeting Bucky’s small smile with his own before his eyes fall again. “What about the time I jumped into the river to rescue your cap after Norman grabbed it off your head down at the docks?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky replies, rubbing the knuckles on his metal hand as if could still feel the punch he threw 100 years ago. “Was that Norman? Or Gerald? You were dripping wet when you finally got out.”

“But I found it.”

They sit there grinning for a moment, caught up in the memory.

“A simpler time,” Steve says, breaking the silence. “Before the internet and inflation and…”

“Time travel,” Bucky continues. They fall silent again.

“We can’t even bury her body.”

Bucky pats Steve’s knee again. “The ceremony tomorrow will be everything she would’ve wanted, Steve. You’ve thought of everything.”

He stands, reaching out his hand to Steve. “Come on. You haven't eaten in almost two days, and we leave early in the morning. Let’s get food.”

“Fine.” Steve allows Bucky to pull him up and gives the room one last look before they turn the light out. He hesitates for a moment before reaching down, grabbing the jacket still lying on the bed.

“That would’ve fit you some 90 years ago,” Bucky says as Steve joins him outside the bedroom. “But it’s a bit small for you now.”

“It’s not for me.”

Bucky nods, watching as Steve closes the door behind them. He claps his hand onto Steve’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Steve." 

“I know.” Steve blinks to quell the tears starting to form as he holds Nat’s jacket tightly in both hands. “But the world won’t be the same.”

“When has it ever been the same for more than a few moments?”

“You know what hasn’t changed in a century?” Steve asks as they head down the hallway.

“What?”

“A good Brooklyn slice.”

Bucky laughs, his first genuine, heartfelt laugh he’s let out in a while. “Sounds good to me,” he says, his eyes shining. “Pizza. And then your bed? Just like old times?”

“Just like old times,” Steve agrees, smiling at the thought of them cuddling up just like they did all those years ago. “I’m glad you’re here, Buck.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”


	2. Not Alone; Or, Natasha's family actually honors her sacrifice.

“Natasha Romanoff deserves so much more than anything we can give her today,” Steve starts, looking out at the small group standing around him.

In a few hours, the riverbank will be teeming with friends and family and press holding a public ceremony in Tony’s name. But for now, it’s peaceful, a collection of all the people Natasha trusted most in the world.

“We’re here today to honor her sacrifice,” he continues, before his voice cracks and he stops. Bucky squeezes his hand, and Steve takes a deep, steadying breath. “Without which, most of us would not be standing here.”

His eyes, still surveying the crowd, fall on Clint. The entire team took Nat’s death hard, but none took it harder than Clint Barton. Standing to the side with little Nate in his arms, he’s torn apart. His eyes are glossy and unfocused, his jacket frumpy and wrinkled, his mohawk unstyled and droopy. Tears soak his cheeks; Steve can see that even from feet away.

Clint meets Steve’s eyes before dropping his gaze. Laura kisses his arm and holds on tightly to his sleeve, not yet aware just how close her husband came to being the one they were here to mourn. He’ll tell her eventually, all of it, the murders, the time travel, the cliff. But not right now. He can’t do anything right now. Not when Natasha should be the one standing here.

“We were her family,” Steve says, more in control of his voice, knowing he needs to be strong. If not for Clint, then for his kids. Cooper and Lila stand behind their parents, sullen-faced, holding hands, quietly trying to immortalize every last image they had of their adopted aunt, fighting to remember every single detail about her last visit home.

He looks at Fury, his normally stony expression softened, and Carol beside him, not unwelcome despite the short time she knew the group, knowing all too well the pain of a fallen friend. She gives Steve a nod.

He returns it solemnly, before bending down to pick up a basket of red roses, black roses and fresh chamomile flowers. “We don’t have her body to bury, but I was hoping we could each say a word or two and then send the flowers down the river,” he says, hesitating, waiting for the group consensus, which seems reluctant. But Bucky grabs the basket from him, taking out a red rose, and passes it on to Sam, who does the same.

“I’ll start,” Steve says, watching as the rest of the group slowly distributes the flowers. He holds the chamomile in the palm of his hand. “Natasha brought me into the world in a way no one else before her ever had. We’ve been through a lot together, on both sides of the law, off the grid and on, in hiding and not. I can honestly say I wouldn’t be alive without her, a few times over.”

He takes a breath, watching the flower basket reach the back. “She was the closest thing I had to family. Maybe we worked so well together because we both understood the haunting fear we’d never become more than the objects our governments made us into. Or maybe we were kindred spirits in our desire to leave our past fighting and wars behind us. I don’t know. But I do know that Natasha spent every waking moment making sure no one ever felt alone.”

“And not just me,” Steve continues, watching as Maria Hill takes a black rose from the basket and passes it on to Sharon Carter beside her. She’s the one person Steve took liberties from the list to invite, but he figured Natasha wouldn’t have minded. “So many families lost their children when the snap happened, and so many children lost their families, and Natasha spent the last five years connecting the dots between the two. She came from nothing, all those years ago. She built her family, built us, from nothing. And she helped build these families again, too.”

Steady for so long, Steve’s voice cracks again, and he has to look down, the tears starting to well in his eyes. “She never wanted anyone to be as lonely as she once was,” he manages to croak out, before quickly turning toward the river and bending down to send the flower forth.

“She was cool, real cool,” he hears Sam say behind him, and Steve wants to stand, but the energy has left his body. He stays kneeled instead, watching his little flower struggle to stay afloat in the water, listening.

“She was nothing but welcoming to me,” Sam continues. “And she had that rare ability to give no craps while also giving all of them, and she made you question what was really important in your life. She was tactical, and strong, and smart, and funny, and I’m going to miss her like hell.”

Sam joins Steve, kneeling beside him, letting go of his rose.

Bucky kneels, too, reaching for Steve’s hand, and the two drop his red rose into the water together, watching it float away as Bucky simply whispers, “Natalia, my ballerina.”

Steve squeezes his hand, and Bucky grips it back, not about to let go.

“It’s a much larger universe than any of us could have imagined,” Fury says, taking a moment to join them at the edge, ignoring his cracking knees as he bends down. “And Romanoff gave her life for all of it. When I first met her, she was famous for one thing. Now she’ll be forever infamous for quite another. She created her future, rewrote every single second of the legacy we won’t forget. Her sacrifice is the reason we’re all able to be here, and it’s one we will always remember. Thank you, Agent Romanoff.” He drops his flower into the water, lowering his voice, whispering, “ _Natasha_.”

Carol kneels on one leg beside him, watching her black rose float to join Fury’s.

Maria joins both of them. “I’m going to miss you,” she says, more to the flower than any of them, and drops it into the river.

Next to her, Melinda May does the same, and Sharon gently places a rose next to theirs with a quiet, “thank you.”

Bruce, having stood apart from the main group this entire time, finally looks up from his hands. “There’s too much to say and I don’t know where to start,” he whispers, walking over. “But I’m just thankful for the time I spent with her, and I’m thankful she helped me see a part of myself I didn’t know still existed. She helped bring me some peace. I hope she found some for herself, too.”

He tosses his rose as far down the river as he can, retreating back into his cardigan, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking his head.

Steve feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns his head to see Laura standing behind him, holding four flowers. He moves to let her in, and she kneels beside him, releasing her armful of roses into the water.

“Natasha was like a sister to me,” she starts, her eyes wet but her voice controlled. “She’s done so much for our family, for me, for the kids. Whenever Clint was on a difficult mission, she’d show up at our door, bag in hand, ready to stay with us until he returned. She kept us safe, and she kept us company. And if she was on that mission with him, I knew he’d come back to us safely. She always made sure of it.”

Steve looks down, another tear forming in his eye.

“She always made an effort to be there for me, for the kids, and I just hope, wherever she is, she knows how thankful we are. And that our lives will never be the same without her in them.”

Steve puts his hand on her leg, and looks back to see if Clint is able to speak. He’s not looking that great, honestly, but he hands Nate off to Wanda, and the little kid grips her arms tightly while his father heads to the water.

Clint bends down next to his wife, rose in hand. He looks like he’s just going to drop it silently, but then he chokes out, “It should’ve been me.”

His rose falls into the water with a plop, and Clint crumples up beside it on the bank, curling into himself. “It should’ve been me, you idiot.” He holds his head, trying and failing to catch his sobs in his hands. “It should’ve been me.”

Laura wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him as he rocks back and forth. She looks to Steve, slowly understanding the circumstances surrounding Natasha’s sacrifice. It wasn’t just for families around the universe, it was for her. It was for her family.

Between her husbands’ shaking and the dawning of that realization, tears start to fall from her eyes, too, and soon the two of them are crying amidst the rest of Natasha’s family.

Cooper and Lila stand back, trying to stay strong while their parents break down. Wanda carries Nate down to the river, handing him her flower to drop in the water. He does, then quickly buries his face in her chest. “Bye, Auntie Nat,” he says, his voice muffled by her jacket. She strokes the top of his head, playing with his hair, remembering quite vividly how she’d comfort Pietro the same way when they were little.

Time stands still as the group bows their heads. Slowly, one by one, they start to stand, starting with Fury, then Carol and May and Maria and Sharon, then Bucky and Sam. Steve stands, too, giving Laura and Clint some privacy at the edge of the river.

He starts to head to Bucky first, but stops when he sees Wanda handing Nate off to his sister. Lila puts Nate down and he hides behind her legs as Steve approaches.

“Nathaniel.” Nate stares up at him with wide eyes. “I’m Steve.”

“I know.”

Lila tries to push Nate toward him, but the boy doesn’t move until Steve reaches into his backpack. “You loved your Auntie Nat, huh?”

Steve bends down to be on eye level with him, and Nate nods.

“I’ve got something for you,” Steve says, pulling out the jacket Natasha left in his apartment. “It’s from your aunt. She would’ve wanted you to have it.”

He holds it out, and Nate looks up at Lila. She nods, and hesitantly, he reaches out his hands.

“You want to put it on?”

Nate nods. Steve smiles, softly, and slips the sleeves over the boy’s arms. He’s suddenly dwarfed, the jacket enormous, leaving him room to grow into it for more than a few years.

Steve pats his head and stands.

“Thank you,” Lila mouths, looking at the awe on her brother’s face. He knew their aunt the shortest amount of time, but the two of them had been inseparable every time she visited. If Natasha was there, Nate was with her, holding her hand, asking her to read or play catch or hide and seek, and he always had to be pried from her grasp at bedtime. Now he’ll never be apart from her, even when he realizes the finality of the goodbyes taking place today.

For now, though, he’s happy in his innocence. He tentatively hugs Steve’s legs, and Steve wraps his arms around the boy immediately, holding him tight, wishing more than anything he could tell Nat her nephew would be okay, they’d all be okay.

“She loved you all so much,” he whispers, trying not to let his voice crack, trying to stay strong for the boy in his grasp.

“It’s funny,” Lila starts. “You never know a moment is your last one until long after it’s gone. And then you have to scramble to remember it fully.”

Steve gives her a sad smile.

“I’m just going to miss her,” she says. “And I wish I could’ve told her goodbye.”

“Me, too,” Steve confides, opening one arm to invite her into his and Nate’s embrace. She takes it, hugging him tightly, and Steve feels Cooper join in, too.

“You guys will be okay,” he says, watching as Wanda helps Laura and Clint up. The two hold on to each other, and Wanda gives them a quick hug before heading over to Carol.

“Are you?”

Steve looks at Lila and then searches for Bucky, finding him by a tree with Sam. The two of them are in a seemingly heated debate, their hand motions comically exaggerated. “Yeah,” he answers, shaking his head slightly, smiling to himself.

“I’m surprised you got Cooper in a group hug,” he hears Laura say, and Cooper immediately drops out of the embrace.

Steve turns toward her voice. “Yeah, well, no one should be alone today.”

She nods, giving him a soft smile despite the pain and heartbreak and knowledge now heavily displayed on her face. She smooths her daughters hair, and Lila leaves Steve to wrap her arms around her mom.

“Hey buddy,” Steve whispers to Nate still wrapped around his leg. “You want to go to your mom?”

He nods, but looks up at Steve first. “Thank you for my jacket,” he says, and Steve nods his head quickly, not about to let another tear fall.

He turns to head toward Bucky, but Laura puts her hand on his sleeve.

“You’re always a welcome member of our family, Steve,” she says.

“Thank you.” He gives her a quick smile before excusing himself, heading toward his two idiots still fighting by the tree.

“You know, this might not be the best place for an argument,” he says, walking up behind them.

“We’re just getting it out of our system before the rest of the group arrives,” Sam says.

Steve checks his watch. They’ve got about thirty minutes before Pepper shows up with her daughter and Happy starts letting the press in.

“Do you have the rest of the flowers?”

“Here,” Bucky replies, handing Steve the basket.

“I get the roses,” Sam starts, watching as Steve takes the flowers back down to the water’s edge. “But why the chamomile?”

“National flower of Russia,” Bucky answers.

“Oh.”

“I think.”

“Didn’t you work for Russia for, like, a hundred years? Shouldn’t you know that for sure?”

Bucky gives him a look, and Sam raises his eyebrows in response. Normally, Bucky would quip right back, but right now, his eyes and attention are fixed on Steve.

Down at the river, Steve bends, turning over the basket, releasing the rest of the flowers. “See you in a minute, Romanoff,” he whispers, watching as the roses and the leftover chamomile slowly join their family, ebbing and bobbing along the gentle flow of the current.

He stands, watching them all float downstream, not quite sure where downstream even leads.

Bucky leaves Sam and joins him, reaching for Steve’s hand.

“I had told her we both needed to get lives,” Steve starts, gripping Bucky’s fingers tightly. “Right before all this. She laughed and told me to get one first. And then she gave hers so I can live mine. So we could all live ours.”

“You could still get the life you always wanted.”

Steve looks at Bucky, his eyes shiny again. He opens his mouth but then closes it, shaking his head slightly. “I wouldn’t want that life without you in it.”

“Steve, I can’t go back with you. I couldn’t relive that all again. I couldn’t. I’m responsible for too many deaths over the years.”

“What would you do instead?”

“Natasha started a web of funds a while back. Fury told me about it the other day. I’m not sure anyone else knows. She tracked down the families of people… affected… by her past actions, and she’d been taking up the odd job, a missing person’s case, event protection, etc. She put the payments into all these separate accounts. The families probably don’t even know where the money comes from. But it’ll run dry soon.”

“You were thinking of carrying it on?”

“If I can.”

“I don’t want to live without you,” Steve whispers. “Not again.”

“Doesn’t your serum slow your aging?”

“What?”

“The memory is blurry, but on the bridge, back when everything was just beginning, during the war, didn’t Schmidt, Red Skull, whatever, say you left humanity behind? Couldn’t that mean you’ll live forever? Couldn’t we both?”

Steve pauses, thinking back to one of Thor’s many comments about mortality, of which he always excluded Steve. He never wanted to accept it before, but Thor could be right. Bucky could be right. Maybe he’s immortal. Or, at least, someone with a longer than average life expectancy.

“You could live the life you used to dream about with her,” Bucky continues. “With Peggy. You could finally take a break, rest easy, and then be back here with me. Fury said no time would pass on our end.”

“That’s a risk.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Steve bites his tongue, shaking his head. He wants to say he’d never be fully happy without Bucky, but instead, he just rests his head against his shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“We’ve got a few nights together to figure it all out,” Bucky whispers into his ear. “They’re not sending you back yet. Don’t worry.”

Steve nestles closer to him, straining to feel Bucky’s heartbeat through his jacket. How could he leave him after he finally got him back?

Bucky gives him a soft kiss on his forehead, not caring that Sam and Bruce have joined them at the river, watching the flowers slowly round the bend, waiting for the other half of their newly expanded team to arrive.

He glances at the Bartons, rubbing their kids’ shoulders, faking strength for the next part of the ceremony. Wanda catches his eye and gives him a nod, and he returns it, a small, small smile on his face. He kisses Steve’s head again. They’ve got a lot to talk about, they both know it. But that’s a discussion for a later time, one in which they’ve already made up for all the moments they’ve lost.

“Thanks for being here, Buck,” Steve whispers, quietly, so only he could hear. His smile widens just a bit.

He lightly bites the tip of Steve’s ear. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he whispers back, with another gentle kiss, as the last of the flowers make their way out of view.

 

**Author's Note:**

> @ russo brothers, would this have been so hard?
> 
> i might come back & add on some stucky scenes later, but for now, it's complete. 
> 
> i really just needed to write it for my sanity, because natasha has meant so much in my life (& so many other people's lives, too) & you can't just give her a family (& narratively acknowledge & emphasize it at the beginning of the movie, too) and then not show that family honoring her ?!? unrealistic. 
> 
> i was worried i wrote them out of character here (it's my first marvel fic, so i'm sorry if so), but honestly, it's canonically more out of character for them to ignore her at the funeral sooooo.... 
> 
> (seriously, 6 seconds of flowers with her name on it following tony's would've made a hell of a difference in the film. but that's fine, russo brothers. i'll just be salty forever)
> 
> anywho, thanks for reading. i hope it makes someone else feel a bit better after endgame, too
> 
> [my tumblr](https://mutantofhellskitchen.tumblr.com/)


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